Unexpected
by Oystardiom
Summary: When Dash and Kwan find Danny severely injured, and then seemingly almost healed the next day, they start to get suspicious. Will Danny and his friends be able to keep his secret? Or will Dash and Kwan figure it out? Rated T for blood and swearing. Slight DXS. CHAPTER 3 IS FINALLY UP!
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Hello! This is my first fanfic, so sorry if the characters are a little (or a lot) OOC. Just blame it on the situation that you are about to read. Also, this will be a multi-chaptered story, so I apologize in advance if I don't update as often as I would like. Anyway, on with the story**

**DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT, UNDER ANY CIRCUMSTANCES, OWN DANNY PHANTOM IN ANY WAY, SHAPE, OR FORM!**

* * *

I hear footsteps. Or at least, I think I do. I'm not exactly sure, what with the blood roaring in my ears and the steady beating of rain against pavement. I always liked that sound. I don't know why. Yup. definitely footsteps. They're slightly closer now, but still far enough away. Its pretty dark. Well after midnight I'm sure. Maybe 2:00 in the morning? 3:00? Oh well, I have better things to worry about than the time. Maybe I'm hallucinating, but I'm almost positive I hear two sets of footsteps now, the second much fainter than the first, but definitely there. I have to muster up all the strength I possibly can, but I manage to dive into the alley beside me, right behind a dumpster—A really foul smelling dumpster, mind you— but not before I hear a loud CRACK echoing down the entire street. Pain shoots up my left leg, originating from my ankle, and somewhere in the back of my mind it registers that it probably caught on something and broke it, and I start to feel dizzy. I have more pressing matters to worry about than that right now. Like not being seen—or eaten. I still don't know what's making those foot steps, and I'd rather not find out. All I know is that there are two of them. I hope they don't notice the puddle of blood on the ground from where I was laying moments ago. Speaking of that, I'm pretty sure I should wrap up the cut on my side, but what can I really do? Not much. It sort of hurts to move, and I'm about half a mile from my house anyway. Besides, I'm kinda tired. I don't really feel like walking. How did I even get this wound in the first place? I think I was stabbed, mugged maybe? I was walking in the shitty part of Amity Park, the neighborhood with all the shootings and bank robberies, and the stabbings, I think. It's hard to remember. Tonight was mostly a haze of fighting and pain. And blood. Lots of blood. My shirt starts to feel wet against my chest. I can't tell what's on it though. Sweat? Ectoplasm? Blood? A mixture of the three? I doubt that stain would ever come out. Not that I'd even try to remove it. I know next to nothing about removing stains. Maybe mom would be able to do it for me when I manage to get home. Or Jazz even. She knows about that kind of stuff, I think.

The footsteps are really close now. Close enough for me to hear voices. Voices and... barking? I can hear claws scraping against the pavement. The dog is definitely the closest. It sounds like one of those annoying small dogs. What are they called again? Chihuahuas? The stupid yapping is starting to hurt my ears. Ever since I got my ghost powers, animals have hated me. I think I heard somewhere that they can sense death. Maybe that's why. The dog won't shut up, and I'm getting a headache. And an everything else ache. Damn it. I hope the owners of the two voices don't notice me. That would be embarrassing; Amity's hero found bleeding and injured on the ground in an alley behind a dumpster. Of course they wouldn't know that. I'm in my human form. To them I'm just Danny Fenton: that kid who's parents are crazy ghost hunters. It would probably make the local newspapers but thats really it. It would still be embarrassing. I hate getting attention from people other than my friends. Even attention from mom and dad is a little out of my comfort zone. Wow. That sounds pretty messed up, but what can I do? Its the truth.

"What is it, pookie?" Male. Around my age. His voice is vaguely familiar, but I can't quite place it. And Pookie? I'm going to assume he's referring to the chihuahua. What a dumb name. I can hear the other person laughing now.

"Dude, I still can't believe you actually named your dog Pookie!" Also male. Probably around my age. The new voice sounds vaguely familiar as well. I can't place either.

"I've told you a thousand times! Pookie is my grandma's dog! She named him that. She had to give him to us after she moved!" Who's us? Are there more than one of him? Or does he mean his family? I hope there's only one of him. I don't know why, but I have a feeling I know him, and I'm pretty sure I don't like him. I don't know. I can't really think right now. It hurts my head to try.

"Whatever. I still think its hilarious." The second voice replied.

"Shut up, retard. You can't make fun of an old woman." There was silence after this, and what I could only imagine was the second person holding up his hands in mock defeat. I can't be sure. Its too dark to see. I'm too far away from them anyway.

I can still hear that stupid chihuahua yapping angrily at me. It's making my headache worse. I have to stifle the urge to groan.

"Do you think he sees something in there?" Its the first voice that asks that. He's using a much more serious tone than before. I'm tempted to say: 'Yeah. He does. Right here.' But I decide not to. Mostly because I don't really want to be found. And even if I tried, I don't think I'd be able to get the words out properly.

My hair is getting wet now. It's sticking grossly to my forehead. Something is dripping down my face. I think its water. Is it still raining? I can't really tell. I hear a sound like someone tripping over their feet.

"Shit!" It was the second voice.

"What the hell, man? You almost knocked me over!"

"I fuckin' slipped on something!"

"It's raining, What did you expect? The ground is wet!"

"Well I'm pretty sure it wasn't water! Its too dark to be water!"

"Some drunk probably threw up on the ground! Lets get out of here. C'mon Pookie!" The second voice snickers at the use of the dumb name again.

"Gimme your phone." He demands.

"Why? Use your own!"

"Mine's dead!"

"What do you even need it for?"

"I wanna get the puke off my shoes, and I need light!" The first voice groans, and I can only assume that he hands his friend the device, because neither say anything for a few seconds. I'm pretty sure they haven't left yet.

"Dude..." the second voice says.

"What?" The other snapped.

"Look,"

"Gross! I am so not looking at your pukey shoes!"

"It's not puke." They're both silent for a few seconds.

"I-is that... Blood?"

"Uh-huh."

"Whose do you think it is?"

"I don't know! But there's a trail of it leading into that alley. Look." Oh. Oh shit. Oh my fucking god. They're gonna find me. I try to be cool. Silent, like I'm not even there. Maybe, its too dark. Hopefully they'll skip over me. Somehow, I doubt that. They have a cell phone. And cell phones mean light. The bright kind that hurts your eyes when you look at it in the dark before they have time to adjust. Fuck. A cough escapes my lips before I have time to hold it back. And then another. And another. It fills my mouth with a metallic taste. I don't like it.

"D-did you hear that?" Its the second voice.

"Let's check it out."

"How about no."

"You're such a girl."

"Am not!"

"C'mon."

"Fine. I still don't think its a good idea."

"Shut up."

I want to scream at them to just. Stop. Talking. I can't do it though. My tongue is heavy in my mouth. The footsteps start again. I'm almost positive the two friends are in this alley now. I realize that I can't see them. Did my eyes close at some point? Funny, I don't remember closing them. The cell phone light shines in my face now. I can see it even through my eyelids. Its bright. I squeeze them tighter in an attempt to block it out. It doesn't work.

"Holy shit."

"It's— oh my god. I-is that...?"

"Fenturd?"

* * *

What the hell? What the actual fuck? I don't even know what to think. The kid I pick on is on the ground behind a dumpster. He's bleeding, it looks like he has multiple broken bones, and he's littered with bruises. He looks half dead and I don't know what to think. I don't know what to do. Ok, I don't really like him. I never did. No one does. I always thought he was the weird kid in school. Him and his friends, Manson and Foley. But... This? I wouldn't wish this on my worst enemy. Even I'm not that cruel.

"Dude..." I say to Kwan.

"What the hell? What the hell..." He looks at me with a horrified expression, the same exact one that's probably plastered on my face as well.

"What do we do?" I ask.

"I don't know." _Real helpful._ I want to say. But I don't. I can't find it in me to be annoyed with him anymore. I'd probably say the same thing if he asked me what to do. I can't blame him right now.

"Should we... You know... Take him to the hospital or something?" He sounds uncertain. To be honest, I don't know. It would probably be a good idea.

"Yeah... Probably..." My voice trails off. Fenton's eyes shoot open. He stares at us for a few moments, his features uncharacteristically dull. The haunted look he gives us is creeping me out. He shakes his head violently.

"No. No, no, no, no, no. No hospitals." He rasped. He sounds scared. He tries to back away from us, but there's a wall in his way. One of his legs kicks out weakly. It collides with my own leg, but it seems to hurt him more than me. He winces and pulls it back towards him. His ankle is twisted in an uncomfortable looking position. I think its safe to assume he broke it somehow. It looks painful.

"Fenton—" Kwan breathes. He was caught off guard by a loud cough.

"No, don't… get up." Too late. He uses the wall to steady himself.

"'M fine... Jus'... Go 'way..." He slurs, taking slow breaths between every few words. I'm not convinced. Neither is Kwan. Clearly, he isn't. He pushes weakly past the two of us. We both part and let him through, too shocked for words.

"No, you're obviously not fine." As if in response to my muttered statement, Fenton collapsed onto his hands and knees in a fit of coughing. It quickly turned into retching. I look away. I don't want to watch. I take this opportunity to see where Pookie ran off too. (And just for the record, my grandma named him that, not me. She had to give him to my family after she moved back to Germany, and we never really bothered to change it. The name just kinda stuck.) Turns out, he wasn't too far away. Only a few meters ahead, I spot him. He's sniffing the side of a rundown brick building. I watch as he turns around, lifts his leg, and takes a piss right there on the sidewalk. I roll my eyes at him. He kicks his back legs to try and cover it up, even though there's nothing there but concrete.

"C'mere Pookie!" I call. He turns, looks at me, then barks and runs over. I turn and start walking back to the alley with the dumpster, and Pookie follows. Kwan spots me quickly.

"If we can't take him to the hospital, we can take him to my house. My parents aren't home. At least there, we could try to call someone and get help." He says. It sounds like a good idea, until another thought reaches my mind.

"What about your sister, though?"

"It's, like, almost 3 in the morning. She'll be asleep."

"Ok..." I still think its a bad idea not bringing him to the hospital, but hey, I know where he's coming from. I've gotten a few concussions playing football before. The hospital is definitely not a fun place to be. Kwan's house clearly seems like the better option here.

"You get his feet, I'll get his arms." Seems easy enough. He's laying motionless on the ground right now. I bend down, and grab his legs. Or at least, I try to. He struggles in our grasp, and it surprises me so much that I yelp and almost drop him. I thought for sure he was unconscious by now. Anyone who loses the amount of blood that he did should be almost dead by now, if not completely. Even if he was still awake, he shouldn't have been able to move at all. I'm not much of a doctor, but I know enough about injuries to at least know that. Kwan seems to have come to the same conclusion, because he too was starting to look confused. I glance at him. He's too preoccupied to look back at me. Fenton continues to struggle, but he's back on the ground now. His movements are unnatural and jerky, kind of like an unlucky fish who happens to be dropped on the ground too far away from its original water source, slowly suffocating to death.

°•°•°•°•°•°

Kwan and I stand outside of his house, the two of us both trying to support Fenton, who was now out cold. Or dead, but I decide it's best not to think like that. As much as I dislike him, I don't want him to just drop dead. 15, in my opinion, is too young an age to die. Anyway, it turns out he's a lot lighter than he looks. He can't be more than 80 or 85 pounds. I know he's short and scrawny, but this is ridiculous. It seems unhealthy. No. The problem with carrying an unconscious Danny Fenton was not his weight, that was for sure. It was the fact that no matter how well supported you think he is, he always seems to become capable of superhuman flexibility, and flops over like a dead fish. Did I already use that analogy? The fish thing I mean? Oh well, it's the best I can think of at the moment. I can only hope it's not the dead kind, but then again, who can really be sure? We heard movement from inside, and instantly froze.

"I thought you said your parents weren't home!" I hissed, keeping my voice as low as I dared, so as not to be heard by anyone besides Kwan, inside or out.

"They aren't! They went away for the entire week! Do you see any cars?"

"If it isn't them, then who the hell is it?"

"…" He opens his mouth to speak, but no words come out.

"Well? Who the hell is in your house?"

"How should I know? I haven't been here most of the day!"

"One way to find out..."

"What are you…? Oh my god. Dude, don't... Just don't." I'm not listening. I look at the key, just sitting in the keyhole from where Kwan put it in when we first got here about 30 seconds ago. Thinking fast, I twist it. The door opens relatively easily, and I pull Kwan in front of me before hitting the light switch. I hope he's big enough to hide me. somehow, I doubt it. I push Fenton behind me, using my body to hide his from view. I have a feeling that despite my efforts, someone would still be able to see him if they looked out the door. I may be bigger than him, but I'm not fat. In the very least, I'd be able to block his injuries. I decide to peek around Kwan. There's a girl standing in the doorway with her arms crossed. She has dark hair, like Kwan's, but hers is long. She's wearing a pair of fuzzy hot pink zebra patterned shorts and a simple white tank top. I recognize instantly who she is: Kwan's little sister.

"Sarah? What are you doing awake? it's almost like, three thirty in the morning!" He whisper-yelled.

"I could ask you the same question. What were you even doing out of the house so late, anyway?" She asked him in a voice that was only slightly lower than normal.

"Long story…" She scoffed at him.

"Mom and Dad said curfew was ten. They _also_ said no friends over while they were gone." She said, matter of factly, gesturing to the two of us. The two of us being me and Fenton.

"Well, then, I guess Mom and Dad aren't going to find out about this, then. _Right_ Sarah?"

"Oh yeah? And who's gonna stop me from calling them right now, hmm?"

"Look, this is kind of an emergency. Couldn't you just run along up to your room and go to sleep?"

"_Couldn't you just run along up to your room and go to sleep?"_ She mimicked in a falsetto voice that sounded nothing like Kwan's. "I suppose I _could _do that, couldn't I? But wouldn't it much more fun to see Mom and Dad freak at you?" she asked, holding her cell phone in one hand, the other still crossed over her chest. She was starting to dial the beginnings of some number that I didn't know, but assumed belonged to one of their parents.

"Wait, wait, wait! I told you it was an emergency! There's no need to make any calls!"

"Why shouldn't I call? It's _their_ rules you're breaking, not mine."

"Ok, fine. You know what? I didn't want it to have to come to this, but… there's a 20 on my dresser. It's your's, as long as _nobody_ finds out about this. Especially Mom and Dad."

"Make it 30, and you have a deal."

"But…" She cut him off by lifting her cell again and placing her fingers over the buttons.

"Fine."

"My lips are sealed." She said, bounding up the stairs, in hot pursuit of Kwan's money.

"Dude… you did _not _just bribe your little sister. What is she 13? Oh my god." I say, laughing like an idiot. I guess it's not actually as funny as it is in my head as it is in real life, but hey, I just saw a person bleed half to death at 3:00 in the morning, can you really blame me?

"12 actually. And yes, I think I did just bribe my little sister." This just causes me to laugh harder.

"You _think? _Oh my god, dude, this is hilarious." I say in between laughs.

"Ok, you can stop now. You're making a fool of yourself."

"Ok, ok. I think I'm done." I tell him, catching my breath.

"You know, it wasn't _that_ funny." Kwan says.

"C'mon give me a break. It's 3 AM. And just for the record, it was kind of funny."

"Ok. But seriously, we should really do something about…" He glances at the unconscious Fenton, who miraculously seemed to fold himself in half in an almost perfect 180 degree angle, while simultaneously hanging awkwardly in my arms in what had to be a very uncomfortable position.

"Couch?" I ask.

"Bathroom, for now. I don't think I would be able to come up with an excuse for a bloody couch. And I _definitely _don't think my parents would be happy about that."

"'K." Is all I have to say to that. I follow Kwan down the hallway, even though I know the way. I've been here enough times. The thing is, the walkway is just too narrow for more than one person, so I walk behind him, hauling Fenton after me.

°•°•°•°•°•°

"First things first, we should try to stop the bleeding." Kwan says. I don't argue with him. His mom is a nurse, after all. He would probably know way more about first aid than I do, considering I have very little knowledge of it myself.

"How? I don't see any gashes…" I start awkwardly, even though I know full well that it's hidden under his clothing. I guess I'm just trying to put off the inevitable removal of his shirt. I know It's necessary, but it feels… wrong, to put it lightly. Like a complete invasion of personal space. Kwan gives me a look in somewhere in between a glare and a smirk. It's weird, coming from him. He was never the serious one out of our little group of friends. I suppose neither am I, but still… Its just weird. I guess this entire _situation_ is 'just weird'. I look back at Kwan again, but he's on the other side of the large bathroom, digging through a cabinet for what I assume to be first aid supplies. He seems to sense my eyes on his back, because without turning around, he says,

"Just take it off while I get this stuff, will you?"

"Huh?" I reply stupidly.

"His shirt. Take it off."

Oh. Heh, heh. Right." I don't have to look to know that Kwan is rolling his eyes at me. Fenturd's lying face up on the floor, and his shirt is red with blood. There's so much of it, and I really don't want to see the wound under the cloth, but it's either that or Kwan won't be able to bandage it and stop the bleeding. So, I put both of my hands on it and attempt to pull it over his head. It gets caught a few times on his arms, which hang limply at his sides. It's really gross, and the wetness of it causes the shirt to stick to him, but I manage to peel it off completely. I throw it in the sink, because I have no idea where else to put it, and turn to Kwan, who's holding a few towels and some medical supplies. I suppose it's because his mom is a nurse, as I've already mentioned, but they never seem to have a shortage of that stuff.

"So… what now?" I ask. I'm still looking to him, forcing myself not to look down at Fenton, because I'm sure the sight of his injury will gross me out. Don't get me wrong, I'm not usually squeamish, but with that much blood, it can't be a pretty image to look at. He hands me a towel.

"First, you have to help me try and stop the flow of blood." He tells me.

"And how exactly do I do that?" I'm still refusing to look at him.

"Come here, I'll show you." reluctantly, I bend down and force myself to look at the boy on the floor. That is definitely going on my list of things I regret doing. It's hard to look at. The gash starts half way down his left rib cage and forms a thick, jagged (not to mention red) line all the way down to his hip, as if someone with a shaky hand had dragged a knife through him. His torso is smeared with the thick red blood that's still spilling slowly out of the cut. The skin around it is red and tender, and it's starting to bruise nicely. The most disturbing thing, I think, is that that isn't the only injury. I would be okay with it if it was just a few scrapes here and there, but this… There has to be hundreds of them, some of them old scars, some of them so fresh they're still bleeding. Some of the older ones looked pretty bad too, but not as bad as this one. It looked pretty awful in the harsh fluorescent lighting, and over the backdrop of his pale skin. The bruises didn't do anything to help either. They painted his chest and stomach in the most horrific shades of purple, yellow, and, green. All in all, his whole appearance makes me want to throw up. I wince, but I can't bring myself to look away. What has to have been happening to him to make him look this bad? You know what, I don't even want to think about it. And I certainly don't want to know. I'm sure Fenton doesn't want me to know about this either, let alone _see_ it. And honestly? It's none of my business.

"You have to apply pressure, like this for at least fifteen minutes, see?" Kwan had one of the towels layered between the cut and both of his hands.

"It looks like you have that under control. Why don't I try to call someone instead." In truth, I just don't want to 'apply pressure' as Kwan put it. It looks like it's hurting him, because he flinches. He doesn't wake up, not yet, but at least we know he's still alive. Kwan looks at me and sees my discomfort at the situation, and nods.

"If you can find a way, and a number, go ahead." My expression twists into a smirk. I have just the right idea. It should work, as long as he has his phone on him, which he does. I can see it sticking out of his pocket, so I move to grab it. There're a few drops of blood on it but that doesn't really surprise me, given the situation. What does surprise me is the huge multitude of cracks covering the front. On second thought, it doesn't really surprise me. The kid's a klutz, and I've seen him drop it countless times. I press the button on the top, and a glowing logo appears on the screen. As soon as it's on, a low battery signal pops up, and tells me to 'charge your battery soon. Only 12% left!' He must've turned it off to save the battery. Oh well, because it's being used now. The next thing I notice is a little red circle with a 14 on it on the corner of the green 'messages' icon. And on the yellow 'calls' icon is a little red circle with a 3 on it. Like the good person I am, I ignore both of them. It's probably his girlfriend, Manson, or something like that. I'll tease him for it later, maybe when he isn't busy _dying._ But for now, I decide it's best not to get caught up in his personal business, especially now, when there is an urgent call to be made. I go through his contact list, and click on the first number I see, which just so happens to be, you guessed it, Manson. I have to admit, I've never actually tried to talk to her, I mean, for real. To be honest, her temper kind of scared me off, but I have to swallow my fear. She _is_ his girlfriend after all, she has a right to know. And I'm sure he'd be less freaked out to see _her _when he wakes up than me and Kwan. I have to be honest here, I'm a bit mean to him. I can hear the phone ringing, once, twice, three times. And then she picks up.

"_Danny! I've been trying to get a hold of you all night! are you ok? What happened?" _I swallow before answering. She doesn't sound mad, but she sure as hell doesn't sound happy, either.

"_Danny? You're starting to scare me. Just answer already."_ I gulp. Here goes nothing.

* * *

**A/N: DUN DUN DUN! Oh no, a cliff hanger. what will Sam do when she finds out that Danny is horrendously injured, and in the custody (well not really, but that's the best word I can think of at 10:35 at night) of Dash and Kwan? You shall see, you shall see. Well that is, if anyone is actually reading this. Anyway, what did you think? Push that sexy lil' button down there and tell me in a review! Pwease? It would make me vewy vewy happy :P :P :P I apologize again if the characters are OOC. Also, we humans are not perfect, so tell me if there are any mistakes in grammar or spelling or anything else and I will gladly go back and fix it! But I won't be able to find them if you don't review so... you know what to do! XD**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Hello, readers! I'm back with a new chapter!( finally) Did you guys miss me? I missed me. Ok, so I would've updated this sooner, but I didn't have access to my laptop. Also, my sister and I have been sort of binge-watching Gravity Falls (awesome show btw, I highly recommend it if you like cartoons) and Phineas and Ferb (also a great show) and then school started like three days ago -_- I have this really creepy old guy as a history teacher, and he's really weird. He gave us a quiz on the second day, and I have a test tomorrow on chapter 16 of the textbook already! He's ridiculous I swear. He dyes his hair black so he looks like frickin' Snape except with shorter hair and he cracks really bad jokes. Anyway, I'm really sorry if you reviewed and I didn't reply, I think I did some of you but I got lazy. Also: THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR ALL OF YOUR REVIEWS! I GOT LIKE 24 OF THEM IN ONE CHAPTER! 24! IN ONE CHAPTER! ASDFJKLLKADFKJGAD. But seriously, I love you guys so much! It literally made my day(s) when I read all of them! I didn't think this story would get so much attention! I love you guys (I said that already didn't I XD 3 3 3) Before this A/N gets longer than the actual chapter, HERE WE GO!**

**Disclaimer: I almost forgot, I do not own Danny Phantom, I just love it a lot.**

* * *

The shrill ring of my cell phone rouses me from sleep. I sit up groggily in my bed and let it ring, once, then twice. I pick it up on the third ring. The caller id tells me it's Danny, and I answer it worriedly. He was supposed to be over here hours ago. When he didn't show up immediately, I just assumed it was ghost troubles, but now? I don't know. I tried texting him about a hundred times, and when he didn't answer, I tried calling. Needless to say it didn't work. His phone probably died. Or at least, I tell myself that. I can only hope it wasn't him that died, instead. Damn it, Sam, don't think like that! He wouldn't just die without calling first, would he?

"Danny! I've been trying to get a hold of you all night! Are you ok? What happened?" I ask immediately. I'm met with dead silence on the other line. Not what I want to hear.

"Danny? You're starting to scare me. Just answer already." Oh god. Why Isn't he answering? I can't help but assume the worst, even though the logical side of me is telling me not to panic. I hear him swallow.

"_Um, hey M- I mean Sam. Uh, how's it going?" _What surprises me the most was that the voice wasn't Danny's. Then, I do a double take.

"Dash? What the hell? Where's Danny? And why are you using his phone?" I bombard the blond jock with questions. Questions, I might add, that I want answers to. Right. Now.

"_Um, yeah about that… Look, there's not a lot of time. Can you just come over to Kwan's house? Wait, Kwan says he's running out of cloth bandages. Could you get us some of those? Oh and bring Fo- Tucker, he should know about this too." _Ok now I'm really confused. Not only did he not answer my questions, but he left me with more.

"Woah, woah, woah. Slow down. Cloth bandages? What happened? And _why do you have Danny's phone?" I better get answers Baxter._ That last sentence goes unsaid, but I hope it shows through in my tone.

"_Look, this has to do with Fen- Danny too, ok? Just get over here, I'll explain everything to you and Tucker. And bring cloth bandages. And- Aw sh-" _ The line goes dead, and what ever he was about to say remains a mystery. His effort to use out first names rather than our last names doesn't go unnoticed. And what could this possibly have to do with Danny?

"Be there in 15." I say to no one in particular. Now to call Tucker. I dial his number without even needing to look. I know it practically by heart. He lets it ring a few times, same as I did when Dash called, and then he picks up.

"_Hello?" _he says groggily. "_What is it, Sam?"_

"Tuck, meet me at the 24 hour store at the corner of Park and Maple, ok? It's Important."

"_Important how? It's like 3:42 in the morning." _He ends the word 'morning' in a yawn.

"It's _Danny_ important, Tuck. Just be there." Apparently, Danny is now a gauge to how important something is. He seems to perk up at the mention of his best friends name, because he suddenly answers me in a voice that doesn't make it sound like he's about to fall asleep.

"_Is he ok?"_

"I don't know. Just be there in five minutes." I hang up without waiting for a reply. Now, to get dressed. It takes me about 30 seconds to get out of my pajamas and into my regular clothes, and I can assure you that I don't look my best. I don't even bother with the rat's nest that is my hair. Not that it matters at 3:43 A.M. It's probably best to use the secret rope ladder hanging out my window (for ghost emergencies, and sneaking out only, which I guess this qualifies as both.) so as not to wake my parents. I grab some cash, then open the window slowly and climb down, being extra careful not to make any noise. Don't want the neighbors seeing me either. Fast-walking down the empty, street-lit sidewalks, I make my way to the 24 hour store, which is only about 3- 3 and a half minutes from my house. I don't see Tuck yet, but that's ok. It'll give me a few minutes to get the stuff Dash asked for without him worrying, or asking his annoying questions that I refuse to answer. The store is small, and I find what I'm looking for fairly quickly. The gauze bandage rolls come in a three pack, so I grab it, along with a roll of white medical tape, and a bottle of peroxide, just in case. The young man at the counter, about 19 or 20, gave me a look, but it immediately melted back into his usual grumpy expression when I slapped a 20 down on the counter. He put my stuff in a plastic bag and handed me my change and a receipt, which I stuffed in my pocket. All that's left to do now is wait for Tucker. I walk outside the door, and just as I'm about to lean against the wall, I see him running up to the store, hastily dressed, and glasses crooked. He slows to a walk when he sees me, and makes his way over.

"Hey. I came... running all the way... here as soon as you... Mentioned Danny." He says, in between pants.

"You? Running? Woah I never thought that would happen." He glares at me, but I can tell he doesn't mean it. "Anyway," I start, "we have to go to Kwan's."

"Why? What... Happened to... Danny?" I can tell he wants to ask me more questions, but his breath doesn't allow it.

"I don't exactly know. Dash hung up before he could give me any details." I begin walking, and Tucker follows me.

"Dash _called_ you? How did he even get your number?" He asks, finally having caught his breath.

"He had Danny's phone. And don't ask me why because I have no idea." I add, because I can see him open his mouth to do it. He puts up his hands in surrender and says,

"Ok, ok. I wasn't gonna say anything." But we both know he was lying. As we walk on, I can feel myself starting to get angry. Not at Tucker. At Dash. What did he do to Danny that he could possibly need gauze for? He better run for his life if he beat Danny up. I know he's always threatening to at school, but the worst he's actually done is shove him in his locker and trip him in the halls. If he hurt my Danny, I swear... Wait _my_ Danny? Where did _that_ come from? Oh well, I have other things to worry about, like killing Dash, for example. It crosses my mind that maybe he stole Danny's phone without his knowledge and is now pranking both me and Tucker. I doubt it though. If that was the case, Danny probably would've shown up, and I would've gotten a joke response. To the texts at least. They (meaning Dash and Kwan. We're going to his house, after all) definitely wouldn't have been able to replicate his voice if they tried, but that's beside the point. The point is, that if Dash and Kwan did anything to him, they're both going down.

°•°•°•°•°•°

It takes us about 10 minutes to get there. Amity Park is a small town, so getting to other people's houses in over 15 minutes is very unlikely, unless that person lives in a place that's particularly hard to reach. Even then, distance isn't really the problem. It's usually if the house is uphill, or something like that. Anyway, when Tucker and I reach the big wooden door, I raise my fist and knock, rather loudly. I realize that it might be considered rude, but I don't care right now, and I probably won't until I'm positive that Danny's ok, and both Dash and Kwan are dead on the floor. Ok, I probably wouldn't actually allow myself to kill them, but that won't stop me from seriously injuring them. When they don't come to the door immediately, I try to peer through the glass, but all I can see is a warped version of the interior, because the patterned crystal blocks my view. I can hear a dog barking though, one of those really small ones, which is strange, because I didn't think Kwan had a dog. Someone is running at the door, presumably to let me in. The sound of the unlocking of a deadbolt, and the door opens a bit, wide enough for a head topped with a blond crop of hair to peek through.

"Oh," Dash begins, "It's just you guys. Phew." His eyes meet mine, and he cowers back a few steps. I smirk, knowing he's scared of me, despite him not actually telling anyone. "Hold on just a sec." The door clicks shut, a chain slides into place, and it opens again, this time wide enough to let people through. Tucker and I both go in. I'm shocked. Not because the house is oh-so-fancy. Even if that was the case, I'm used to it by now. The house is actually pretty average, not the nicest of houses, but not the worst, either. The reason I'm shocked is because Danny is no where in sight. I glare at Dash as he stands sheepishly to one side. The dog sniffs at Tucker's feet, tries to jump on him, and then runs over to me to do the same. I ignore it, in favor of glaring at Dash. Tucker tries to order the stupid dog away by pushing it with his foot.

"What did you do to him?" I growl at Dash.

"Do to who?" He starts backing away from me, and I step toward him.

"What did you do to Danny?" I ask again, trying to get it through his thick head that I'm not in the mood to play games- that I'm actually worried about my friend.

"I didn't do anything! I swear! It wasn't me! I promise you I don't know who it was but- AHHH!" He yelps, very girlishly, in my opinion, as I step toward him again, apparently threateningly. Tucker grab's my shoulders to hold me back. I don't appreciate the gesture.

"Sam, maybe you should listen to what he has to say."

"Tucker, if he hurt Danny… I swear he's never gonna hear the end of it!"

"Look Sam, he says he didn't! Maybe you should just let him talk! This is going to get us nowhere! You're just wasting time that we could be using to help Danny!" I huff. Damn him. He always knows exactly what to say to get me to lay off.

"Huh. I never thought I'd say this, but thanks, Foley." I growl again.

"Ok, ok. I'll take you to him. Me and Kwan'll explain what happened." He walks in front of both me and Tucker, and leads the way down a narrow hallway, that's just wide enough for the three of us to walk single file. Well, I guess we could walk shoulder to shoulder, at least Tucker and I could, but it would be a bit of a squeeze. Tucker walks directly behind him, with me in tow. As we walk, I look at my feet, so I almost bump into the two of them as they stop. Dash fiddles with a brass door knob, and after a few seconds, the door opens into a fluorescent-lit room. I assume its the bathroom, because honestly, why else would it be down a hallway? My suspicions are confirmed, that yes, it is a bathroom, as soon as I step inside. It's not a small one, either. There's easily room for all five of us in here. Dash walks over to Kwan, and the two of them crowd around one thing: Danny. He doesn't look so bad at first glance, but once I get a better view, I nearly scream. I stop myself by putting my hand over my mouth, but an involuntary gasp still escapes my lips. He's lying on the floor, with part of his torso covered in white blood soaked cloth bandages, and the rest with blood soaked towels. His shirt is in the sink, also soaked with blood. I can't see the actual wound, because it's covered with cloth, but I _can_ see all the blood, and when there's that much of it, it can never be good.

"What happened?" Tucker asks. Dash looks at Kwan.

"Did you get the stuff I asked you to get?" Dash says. I toss him the bag, and he catches it, then opens it, and takes out the three-pack of cloth bandages. He rips the plastic off with his teeth, and hands a roll to Kwan, who somehow seemed to know what he's doing. That didn't make me feel any better, though. I guess that happens when someone you care about is in the hands of someone you barely know.

"Maybe Tuck and I should… you know…" I gesture to Danny. We probably have more experience wrapping injuries. I mean, with all the ghost fighting, we do it more often than I care to admit.

"Maybe that's a good idea." Kwan says, speaking for the first time since Tucker and I got here. He doesn't look all that comfortable with what he's doing, even if he knows how to do it. We make our way over to him, and kneel in front of our long-time best friend, getting to work immediately. There's some blood already seeping through the bandages that are already there, but instead of taking them off, I just layer more on top.

"So, what happened, exactly?" Tuck repeats, the firmness of his voice suggesting the undertones of a threat. He doesn't get any closer to me, only watches me wrap, which I'm grateful for. He'd only get in the way if he tried to when I don't need it. Kwan clears his throat, and the two jocks share a look. Dash nods, as if to say '_you start'._

"Well, uh, we were walking, and uh, the dog just started barking at something, and uh, I stepped in something, and, well, uh, we walked into this alley, see, and we found what the dog was barking at, and uh, well, it was him." he points at Danny. "So then, we uh, took him here, and then, uh, Dash called you, and then you two came here and, uh, yeah. That happened." By the time Kwan finishes explaining I'm about half way done. As I lift the towels off of him, I wince. It looks like someone had dragged dragged a knife through him. I know he's gotten a lot of wounds like this, with his ghost fighting and all, but this is even worse than usual. Not only that, but his left ankle looks broken, and his right shoulder isn't looking too hot, either. The shoulder probably isn't broken. It looks dislocated. I should probably pop it back into place (hey, I've done it enough times, I'm an expert at it by now.) but I should finish wrapping this first, so he doesn't bleed to death. The shoulder should heal completely in a couple of days, the ankle in about two weeks. The wound on his side would probably scab over by tomorrow (or is it already tomorrow?) and fade into a scar by the end of the week. His bruises are already starting to fade, probably be gone by the time the sun comes up in a couple of hours. His ghost powers allow him to heal quickly, which is lucky for him, but I'm afraid Dash and Kwan will see and start asking questions. Hopefully they'll be too dumb to notice, but stupidity only goes so far. Or maybe they'll start ignoring him again. All three of us actually. That would be good. I finish wrapping the wound, and put a hand on the end of it to hold it down.

"Tape." I say. It comes out as more of a demand than a question, but Tucker hands me the roll, having already opened the package. I rip off a few long pieces with my teeth and secure the gauze. Now I move to go wrap up his ankle. Gauze probably- no definitely wouldn't be a doctor's first choice in wrapping a broken ankle, but it's all we have, and with Danny's accelerated healing, it's all we'll need. As long as someone holds his foot straight -I vote Tucker- while I wrap it, it should be fine.

It doesn't take long to do. At one point, Danny flinched so hard he actually made me flinch, because he accidentally kicked me in the knee. Tucker snorted, trying and failing to hold in his laughter. I glare at him, more out of habit than anger (although it still annoys me a little). He stops immediately, and I finish wrapping.

"Should we wait 'till he wakes up to do his shoulder?" Tucker asks, now fully confident that Danny is going to live. Dash and Kwan share another look, presumably because they had no idea that there was anything wrong with his shoulder in the first place, or at least that's my (educated) guess. I suppose it's not so obvious if you don't know what to look for, which I do, considering Tucker and I have been the one's giving him medical attention for about a year now.

"Nah, lets just do it now, so he doesn't you know, scream or something and wake up half the town." I say, knowing that if he was awake, he probably would. Tucker nods, and we both try to lift him into a sitting position. It would be better if he was standing, but this way is a lot easier, since at the moment, he is unable to support his own weight. In a few moments, we have him positioned in a way so he's leaning against me for support. I put one hand on his left shoulder to hold him steady, and my other one under his right arm, just under the dislocation. Tucker grabs his elbow in one hand, and his wrist in the other, lifting the arm at a 90 degree angle to the rest of his body.

"On three?" Tucker asks.

"On three." I confirm.

"One...two…three!" In one swift motion, Tucker lifts the arm above Danny's head. A slight popping sound can be heard, the joint sliding back into the socket. Good. I can see Dash and Kwan out of the corner of my eye, identical grimaces on each of their faces. Also good. Well, not good. More like, I don't know, satisfying? Just because I don't think the two of them could possibly inflict this much damage- well, I suppose they could, but Kwan never seemed like the violent type. I'm sure he wouldn't let Dash _stab_ him- doesn't mean I'm happy about it. I hear a groan and realize that Danny is still leaning against me. I carefully set him back down on the ground, making sure not to jostle his injuries too much.

"Oww…"

* * *

**A/N: I'm down here now! I know, I know, it's sort of another cliffhanger, but then I was like, what the hell? It gives me a reason to update, and I promise that no matter how long it takes, I will not give up on this story. Speaking of updating, I'll try my best to update at least every two or so weeks, but don't hold me to that. So yeah, review? I'll love you forever if you do :) even you guest: yeah that's right I got my eyes on you (jk) Btw, I want to get an iPad so I can write more often, and possibly update faster, and my mom was fine with it but my dad said no because I'm kinda shy and don't really like talking to people, and that I have to earn it. I have two problems with that: 1) how would he even know I'm making an effort to talk to people, and 2) He was being a huge asshole when he was saying it, and like saying how easy it is to just say hello an have a conversation with someone you barely know, but when your really shy like me its actually not so easy. He was like basically making fun of me for being shy and unpopular like my whole life and it's really not so easy to change just like that and it actually sort of made me cry a little because I'm also just really insecure about it too, and he's just saying these things like its no big deal, and I'm sorry I'm ****sort of**** ranting but I just had to get that off my chest. Anyway thanks for reading, reviewing, following, and favoriting this story! until next time friends...**


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: GUYS I AM SO SO SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG! I WAS SO READY TO BE FINISHED WITH THIS CHAPTER SO MUCH EARLIER THAN THIS, BUT THEN SCHOOL HAPPENED AND MY PHONE BROKE SO I HAD TROUBLE GETTING ON TO GOOGLE DOCS AND MY COMPUTER STINKS BECAUSE SOME OF THE KEYS ARE MISSING AND SOME OF THEM DON'T WORK AND AGGGHHHHHH**

* * *

"_oww…"_

I groan. I try to open my eyes, I really do, but the harsh white light hurts. A lot. The thing is, though, I don't even remember passing out, which is never a good thing. Where am I? Oh yeah, I have absolutely no idea. It's really white in here though. A hospital room, maybe? I hope not. Ever since the whole 'ghost bug incident', as Sam, Tucker, and I call it, I'm kind of starting to agree with Tucker: hospitals stink. I'm starting to doubt I'm at a hospital, though, because I don't hear that annoying beeping sound that always seem to fill every single room, and I don't feel a hard mattress under me. Nope, just hard floor. Cool tiles press into my back. Wait, am I even wearing a shirt? God, I hope so.

"Is he waking up?" a voice asks. Someone else shushes it, and I manage to crack open an eye. I try not to shut it again as the harsh lighting assaults my vision, practically leaving me blind. Slowly, the other one follows. The scene playing out in front of me is definitely not one I would ever imagine: Four people leaning over me, two of them bullies, two of them friends, all of them wearing the same worried expression. I blink once, twice, but the four people leaning over me didn't go anywhere. I guess the only thing that proves is that I'm not imagining things.

"Danny…" One of them says, but my mind is too foggy to register who it was. Instead of responding, I stare blankly back up at them through half closed eyes. Someone puts a cold hand on my shoulder, and I flinch, because for some reason it really hurts. Now that I think about it, everything hurts. Mostly my shoulder, side, and ankle. Everything else is just a dull ache, a feeling I've gotten pretty used to over the past year. So much so that I'm able to pretty much ignore it. Well, Unless I move.

"Danny…?" someone asks.

"Fenton… what the hell happened to you?" Another voice, another question I really don't want to answer. Not like I could, even if I _did_ want to. My tongue feels too swollen, and my throat feels too dry. I don't think I'd be able to get out a coherent sentence if I tried. I think I may have opened my mouth at some point, but all that came out of it was a feeble coughing fit, which only served to aggravate my throat more.

"C- ca- I- w- water…?" was all I could manage in my weakened, injured state. I think it came out as a question, but I can't be sure. Not that I care. As long as they got the message, and I got my much needed glass of water. I dimly register someone moving to get up, but not much more after that. I remember trying to sit up, wincing as pain flares in my side. I'm a little bit surprised, looking back on it, that no one tried to stop me. Surprised, but no less thankful. I don't know- I just feel more vulnerable, awkward, and uncomfortable lying on the ground with people -or anything for that matter- looking down on me. It probably comes from a year of ghost-fighting, or maybe that's just me.

I look around again as the door to the room -that I now know is, in fact a bathroom- creaks open and Sam steps in, holding a glass of water. She sits down along the wall I'm currently leaning against and tries to bring it up to mouth. I ignore that and just grab the glass out of her outstretched hands. I refuse to be humiliated like that, especially in front of Dash and Kwan. I mean, haven't I already been humiliated enough, what with my missing shirt and all.

I downed the glass of ice cold water in a grand total of about 17 seconds. Probably not my best idea. Did I mention it was ice cold? Long story short, I ended up with a stomach cramp and brain freeze.

"Jesus, Danny, slow down. You're going to make yourself sick." Tucker said jokingly, yet concerned and serious at the same time. I set the glass down next to me.

"Sorry." I said, still catching my breath, but able to talk now.

"You OK?" he asked. I contemplated my answer for a moment. I sure didn't feel fine at the moment; Everything hurt. Other than that though, I'm pretty sure I was. I've been injured pretty bad before, and ended up just fine afterward.

"I will be, just give me a few minutes." I answered him, referring to my mild, water induced cramp and headache. Those types of things usually faded relatively quickly.

My eyes swept the room, finally settling on Dash and Kwan, or, more specifically, their matching comical expressions of utter confusion. I sort of knew where they were coming from. Before I got my ghost powers, being as injured as I am now, 'being fine in a few minutes' seems one hundred percent impossible. Of course they don't know about that, and hopefully they never will if my friends and I have anything to do with it. I don't mean to brag, but we've gotten pretty good at hiding things from people in the more recent months.

"Hey, can I have my shirt back?" I asked out of the blue. I was starting to feel a little self conscious with the two jocks, staring wide-eyed at my cloth-less upper body. Like I said before, I'm pretty used to being injured like this, so my friends often see me without a shirt on, and I don't really mind any more. But these two people are practically strangers to me. Sure I've known them my whole life. We went to the same school for as long as I could remember. But they were the popular kids, and we weren't, so it wasn't like we hung out at all, or talked. I don't _know _them like I know Sam and Tucker.

Dash gestured to a small, bloody pile in the corner, evidently, the soiled remains of my once white t-shirt along with my red tennis shoes.

"I'll go get something. I don't know if it'll fit you, but you can try it if you want." Kwan offered. He always was nicer to me than Dash was, even though Dash is being strangely nice to me right now for some reason. Not that I don't appreciate it, I mean who wouldn't? It's just really weird to me, especially right now.

Kwan left the large bathroom, closing the door behind him. It got me wondering for the first time, where exactly are we? If Kwan's the one getting me a shirt, does that mean we're at his house? I mean, I assume he keeps his clothing in his bedroom. That's where most people would keep it, right?

A few minutes pass in complete silence before the door opens again, and Kwan steps in, holding a dark black t-shirt and a pair of grey sweatpants. I look up. He walks over and hands them to me.

"I don't know if they'll fit you," he begins, repeating what he said before, "but they're really comfortable." I took them from him, confused as to why he brought sweatpants as well as the shirt I originally asked for. I look down at my jeans, and realize for the first time that they're a mess. There's some blood dripped down on to them, but it's mostly just dirt and other bits of filth that looked like it came from the bottom of a sewer.

"Thanks." I say quietly, taking them in my hands. I pull the shirt over my bandaged torso, and its a bit baggy on me, considering how much smaller I am then Kwan. I try to stand up, and Sam holds out a hand to help me stand up. I shoot her an 'I can do it myself' look, wincing a bit as my weight shifts onto my bad foot. It's expertly wrapped in a thick layer of white gauze, so I can only assume that Sam was the one who did it. She's usually pretty good about that kind of thing.

"Uhhh…" I say, looking at my friends and the two jocks, down at my pants, and then back up at them. "Think you guys could… you know leave for a minute?" I ask uncertainly, hoping they would get the hint. I know I probably shouldn't be standing on my own right now, but I sure as hell don't want help changing my pants. Dash and Kwan have already seen more than they should, and Sam and Tucker… they're my friends, but… I don't know. That would just be too weird. Especially if Sam saw me without pants. I mean, I like her but just… no. That would make things too awkward between us, and right now, I really don't need that. Tucker, Dash, and Kwan seem more than happy to step out, but Sam is more hesitant. She glares at me, and I glare defiantly back at her. Tucker puts a hand on her shoulder.

"He'll be fine, Sam. It'll only be for a minute."

"Fine." She says, crossing her arms over her chest. She sends one last look at me, and I smile reassuringly. She scowls, but turns around to leave. The door clicks shut behind her.

Usually, it only takes me a few moments to change, but this time, I had to make a conscious effort not to get either pair of pants caught around my ankle. It adds on about a minute to the time it takes. Another minute of time is wasted on me being foolish, and poking at my bandaged appendage, then wincing as a particularly harsh stab of pain courses through it. I quickly remove my hand from my leg.

I have to tie the pull strings of the sweatpants as tight as they can go just to get them to stay up, and the cloth goes way past my actual feet. But they're really soft and comfortable, so I don't really mind too much. I limp heavily over to the door, trying not to put weight on my bad foot, and trying not to trip. I twist the knob, not surprised to find Sam waiting for me on the other side.

"Everyone's in the living room," she begins, "C'mon I'll help you to the couch." She puts her arm around my shoulder, and I flinch at the sudden and unexpected contact. I never thought she was one to like that kind of thing, being goth and all, but we've been friends for so long she's probably gotten used to it by now.

I find myself internally thanking her for the extra support, despite the fact that I didn't even want any in the first place. I may heal faster than most people, but it still takes time, and right now, it still hurts like a bitch. We make our way slowly down the long hallway.

"You know, you look like shit right now?" Sam asks. It makes me laugh a little.

"Thanks. I feel like it, too." I answer jokingly.

"What happened to you anyway?" She asks, suddenly serious. I both like and despise the way her tone changes from taunting to dead serious in a matter of seconds.

"This and that. The usual." I answer simply. It's not the complete truth, but I really don't feel like explaining how I was attacked from behind. Or that my attacker wasn't even a ghost, but some insane human criminal looking for money and drugs and the like. Essentially, I got mugged. I can tell she doesn't believe me. I'm a horrible liar. Even I wouldn't have believed me. Nonetheless, I smile slightly. Her pale purple eyes bore into my own blue ones and I look away. Her face is a neutral mask, only allowing slight traces of worry to leak into it. It's a look that clearly says: 'We'll talk later'.

"Damn it." I mutter under my breath, remembering for the first time exactly what happened, more specifically, what I lost. If I had been more careful, I would've been able to defend myself, and I certainly wouldn't be in this mess. Not only is my secret at risk, but two of the most popular kids at my school just saw me half naked, and I am _not_ ok with that. And beside that, I get $73 taken from right under my nose, and I was too stunned to do anything about it. The man had grabbed me from behind in a choke-hold, cutting off my airway, while his hand slipped into my pocket and grabbed my money. And when I was finally able to pull myself together to at least _try _and fight back, he pulls a freaking knife on me! An actual knife! I guess I could've been more careful while I was patrolling for ghosts, but still. He had an unfair size advantage, and the element of surprise on his side as well.

"What?" Sam asked. We were making slow progress through the long hallway, now about halfway down it. I was leaning against her as we walked, putting most of my weight on my right side.

"Nothing. Never mind." I say quickly. She gives me another 'I know you're bullshitting me' look, but still doesn't press me for answers. I've been getting quite a lot of those recently. She rolls her eyes.

"C'mon, we're almost there." Yay. More awkward silence. Well, at least I get to sit down comfortably, instead of on a bathroom floor.

Before long, we make it to the area where the narrow hallway opens up into a large, elegant, yet simple living room. Against the back wall is a couch, which Tucker was already sitting on. On the wall above it, there's an abstract painting with a white background and muted blues and purples covering the surface, each color twisting around the other. On either side of the couch sat two armchairs, each one holding a different jock. The three pieces of furniture were situated around a small coffee table in a way that any person sitting in them could reach it. On the other side of the room, against the back wall, a large flat screen television was sitting on top of one of those wooden table things that was made specifically for that purpose, with shelves on the bottom half of it, holding various movies and video game discs.

Sam led me to the couch, and I collapsed onto it next to Tucker, who was sitting on the end. She then sat down next to me, so I was in between the two of them. I leaned against the back of the soft couch, and tucked both of my legs up toward me, criss-crossing them in front of me.

A small dog that had been curled up fast asleep on the simple off white carpet picks up its head, and starts yapping at me. I jump, startled, because frankly, I hadn't even noticed it was there in first place. Suddenly, it jumps up, and runs over to the foot of the couch, directly in front of where I'm sitting, although it doesn't dare climb up. It growls at me, glaring with its beady black eyes, and it's ears laid back against its head. I glare right back at the thing. Pookie, right? I'm fairly sure its the same dog from before. What did Dash say? It was his grandmother's dog? I don't remember exactly, but I think that's what he said when they were walking. Speaking of that...

"What were you two doing, walking around at 2:00 in the morning, anyway?" I blurt out, before I can stop myself. "And why did you even bring the stupid dog?"

Dash looks at Kwan, and then at me.

"We could ask you the same question," he states "minus the dog." He adds, almost as an afterthought. I bite my lip, looking to Sam, and then to Tucker.

"Uhh... Walking?" I didn't mean for it to come out as a question, but apparently my tongue had other ideas. They look at me disbelievingly. I have to look away, and my eyes decide on the light brown dog, which had stopped barking. It was, however, still bristling, albeit non threateningly. To me of course. I'm more than willing to bet that the dog was aiming to try and scare me. It glares at me through beady black eyes. I glare right back.

* * *

I look away from Kwan after about a minute, and back to Fenton. The scene I'm greeted with is probably one of the most bizarre I've ever seen in my life. The kid is having a staring contest with Pookie. My dog growls at him, but the two just continue to glare at each other like it's the most natural thing in the world.

What I can't believe, is that he had the nerve to ask what us we were doing, like these were normal circumstances. Obviously, he didn't want us to think otherwise, but does he really think we're that stupid? I mean yeah, I'm not the sharpest knife in the drawer, and I can't speak for Kwan, because I know he's smarter than me, but I know that seeing someone almost bleed to death in an alley wasn't just something a person could brush off like it was nothing. Not only that, but I have other questions as well. Why did his friends look like they knew exactly what they were doing? Does this kind of thing happen often? And why is it that he weighs so little for someone his age? I mean, he looks healthy, but that's just not normal, even if he is small and scrawny looking. Not only that, but he had a nasty bruise on his jaw, and it's practically gone already. I have a feeling he's not going to be the one to answer those questions, and I'm fairly sure Manson and Foley won't, either. But I'm still going to get them, even if Kwan and I have to force them out of the trio. All I want is answers. But it's not like they even owe it to me. Not with all the crap I give them, pretty much daily.

I decide to let my mind wander. Just thinking about all this is making my brain hurt. What time is it anyway? I take my phone out of my pocket, turning the screen on. 4:33 in the morning? Jesus Christ it's getting late. Or early. I don't even know. But it's Sunday, so at least we don't have to go to school for another day. We continue to sit in a very awkward silence for the next 10 minutes. The trio was sitting stiffly on the couch, minus Fenton, who was sagging into it, in a strange state of being half awake and half asleep at the same time. A sudden chill enters the room, but I assume it's just a draft. Fenton shoots up into a sitting position with a sickening POP. Manson puts a hand on his lower thigh, and Foley grabs his shoulder, presumably to keep him on the couch. But why? Another question to add to the list. The two look at him disapprovingly, and he shrinks back into the couch.

"Just ignore it, Danny. Let someone else take care of it" Mason tells him. Foley nods, saying nothing. I give Kwan a confused look, complete with raised eyebrows. He shakes his head, reaching for the remote on the coffee table, then turning the TV on to one of those weird late night shows.

I don't even remember falling asleep, but the next thing I know, the sun is shining in my face, waking me up. I check the time. It's just after 7. Damn, that's early. Kwan is still asleep on the other arm chair, and Foley is stretched out along the whole couch. One of his arms hangs off the edge, just enough for his fingers to brush the floor. Fenton and Manson, however, are no where to be seen. Just as I'm about to try and go back to sleep, I hear a clang coming from the direction of the kitchen. I want to ignore it, but then I hear hushed voices. It's too quiet to actually make out what they're saying, which spikes my curiosity even more. Unfortunately for me, I'm probably not gonna get any more sleep, so I get up and head toward the kitchen, making sure to stand quietly, unseen.

"But what if—" Fenton asks.

"They won't. Trust me." Manson answers.

"But they could. How hard do you think it is for someone to put two and two together? What if—"

"By that logic, everyone in Amity Park would have figured it out by now, wouldn't they?"

"Yeah but... They're the only ones in Amity Park that saw...you know..."

"Whoa, whoa, whoa. They so you change?!"

"Wha— no! They saw me dead! Or at least, they thought they did."

"Oh." She sounded relieved, for some reason.

"How is that any better? What if they—"

"If I told you once, I've told you a thousand times! They. Will. Not. Find. Out!"

I walk in that moment, not able to hold it off any longer.

* * *

**A/N: Again, I want to apologize for taking forever, but life got in the way. I know I said I would try to update every two weeks, but we all know that that's bullshit. DO NOT TRUST ME EVER AGAIN IF I TRY TO GIVE MYSELF DEADLINES BECAUSE I WILL MOST LIKELY BREAK THEM! Also, I know this is yet ANOTHER cliffie, but this update was already super late and I was like AHHHHH I HAVE TO POST THIS NOW OR ELSE EVERYONE WILL GET MAD AT ME! (or at least more mad than they already are. :/) So, anyway, if the next update takes longer than three weeks, then please feel free to PM me and whoop my ass into shape! Oh, and before I forget, review and tell me what you thought and/or any grammar or spelling mistakes I may have made!**

**EDIT: Please check my profile for progress reports on this fic! I just recently started doing those so if you really want to know, then I encourage you to check that out! (I'm hoping it's going to help me update faster, but who knows?)**


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